by Jean Haus
My father comes around the peninsula and lifts my chin gently. “For others to respect you, you have to respect yourself the most. Think about that.” He kisses my forehead and I tremble as he walks back to the door. “Take care of my boy,” he says like he always does when he leaves.
I stand in the middle of the kitchen until I notice the smell of burning tomato soup and notice that it’s bubbling and spitting all over the stove. I move the pan off the burner, wipe up the mess, and lean on the counter. The day is only half over, and so far it’s been a roller coaster of emotion. After a few deep, calming breaths, I find another can of soup and the ingredients for another grilled cheese for Ben.
My father’s words echo in my head as I turn the heat on again under the sandwiches and stir the soup. Though I do believe Justin respects me, I’m aware we are moving too fast. I dated Trevor for over a year in high school, then four months prior to getting married. Obviously, I should have taken more time then too. But with Trevor, I always had a desperate obsession with holding on to him, as if our connection were something that could slip through my fingers if I looked away for even a second. My obsession with Justin is entirely different. I want to be with him. I want to know everything about him. I want him to know everything about me. But I don’t have the need to hold on to him with a death grip. Because our connection feels mutual.
I’m about to get Justin and Ben, whom I suspect are working on the bridge Ben has been trying to create with his erector set, when my phone rings. Trevor’s number flashes across the screen. Knowing he’ll keep calling, I force myself to answer it.
Before I can even get out a hello he says, “Do you know how pissed I am?”
Imagining his bloody nose and battered face, I can imagine. My jaw clenches at the aggressive tone in his voice. “Just get to the point.”
“I’m getting a lawyer on Monday.”
“Good, you’re going to need—”
“And getting custody of my son.”
I clutch the counter so I don’t fall. The kitchen rug, the world,—actually, even gravity—feel ripped from under me. Breathe, Al. He’s angry and spouting crap. “What are you talking about?”
“Then I’m getting the shop back.”
The shop isn’t even on my radar. “Why would you even think you could get custody? He hardly knows you. You hardly know him,” I snap. Now I’m getting angry. “Is this your deranged idea of revenge?”
“You want to be a bitch?” he hisses. “You want to date some douche bag? Then I’m going to fuck your world up.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Douche bag and his buddy better not press charges against me.”
“Or what?”
“Think about what I said,” he growls before hanging up on me.
Fury pounds through me as I stare at my phone screen. Custody? He’s lost his mind.
Furious, I call him back. Of course he doesn’t answer.
I’m about to destroy my kitchen—throw soup against the wall and smash grilled cheese under my feet—but instead lean against the counter and take deep breaths.
The soft murmur of conversation comes to me from the hallway as Justin and Ben make their way toward the kitchen.
I take in one last gulp of air and say pleasantly, “Lunch is ready. Go wash your hands, Ben.”
With a scowl etching his face, Ben turns back toward the bathroom. Justin studies me for a long moment. “Everything okay?”
Forcing a smile, I nod.
Inside, I’m a screaming mess.
Chapter 29
Justin
We’re all sitting around Allie’s drawing desk on Monday afternoon. Todd’s on his third piece of pizza. Shaya is on her second. Allie is still picking at her first. We’d planned this lunch last week, but Allie was surprised when I showed up with two pizza boxes. Todd and Shaya had been ecstatic.
Allie has also been quiet and distant.
Yesterday, after our surprise lunch with Ben, she’d been quiet too as she drove me back to the dorm. I chalked it up to Ben’s nonstop chatter and that she was freaked out her father walked in while I was there, shirtless no less. When I texted her late last night she seemed fine, but today I’m wondering if there’s more going on than her Dad’s disapproval.
I can’t help blaming her quietness on my big fucking mouth. I should have never told her I was falling in love, but in the heat of the moment, the words felt so right. So true.
Never said them before.
Now they’re biting me in the ass.
Beyond tense, I roll my paper plate and force myself to listen to Todd’s story about a customer from last night.
“So I’m kickin’ it to third,” Todd says, still chomping on pepperoni and sausage. “Pounding skin when the fucker passes out.” He swallows and then laughs. “Almost falls out of the chair.”
I’m guessing pounding skin means he was inking at a high speed.
Shaya giggles, causing her curls to bounce. “He says it calmly, but he screamed like a ten-year-old for me to get in there last night.”
Allie’s forehead wrinkles. Though she hasn’t said more than two words so far, she asks, “Why would you push ink like that?”
“Well, he came in at five to nine.”
Allie glares at him. “We take work until nine.”
“Yeah, but this ass wanted a three-hour job and beyond that his back was already almost entirely engraved. How was I to know he needed a pussy ball?”
At my raised eyebrow Shaya explains, “A tennis ball to hold for pain.”
Todd folds another slice of pizza in half. “He was fine until the fainting thing.”
Allie gives me a weak smile, then her mouth curls in a scowl at Todd.
“Hey, he finished,” Todd says.
“Our first wrastler!” Shaya says with a giggle.
“What’s a wrastler?” I ask.
Allie drops a nibbled-on crust on her plate and glares at Shaya. “It’s not funny.”
Shaya rolls her eyes. “Somebody who faints but finishes,” she replies in a tone that declares the meaning should be obvious.
“Todd,” Allie says irritably, “unless it’s one of your regulars, do not ever kick it to third on someone again.”
Todd scrunches his nose at her, reaching for another slice of pizza. “I’m not a hacker, Al.”
“Then don’t act like one,” she snaps.
Other than the ever-present music playing, the shop is quiet while Shaya and Todd stare at Allie like she’s grown two heads. Apparently, her snapping at them isn’t normal. Finally, Todd shrugs and stuffs pizza in his mouth. Shaya turns to me.
“When can I come and see your band?”
“Not anytime soon,” Allie says, tossing cups in the trash by the counter. “He plays at bars.”
Shaya’s forehead wrinkles. “So?”
“So you’re not even eighteen much less twenty-one,” Allie says with a tone of finality.
I clear my throat. “Just tell me when you turn eighteen. We sometimes have gigs that are eighteen and over.”
“Sweet,” Shaya says, sounding like she hangs out with Todd too much.
Allie pauses from picking up plates to frown at me, but she doesn’t say anything.
I start helping and when we meet at the trash bin, I say in a low voice, “I’ll make sure it’s a mellow show.”
Not looking at me, she just nods.
Fuck. I want to ask her what the hell is wrong, but I’m terrified it’s the oh-shit-Justin’s-in-love-with-me thing and the shop is definitely not the place to talk about it.
A hardcore, thrashing guitar riff suddenly competes with the Paramore song coming out of the speakers behind the counter.
After tossing his plate on the drawing table, Todd digs in his pocket and yanks his phone out. He answers with a “
What’s up?”
I could care less who Todd is on the phone with, but the instant stillness of his body, the scowl creasing his face, and the way his eyes flick to me catch my attention.
His scowl grows. “Yeah, so what?”
Allie stops cleaning and watches him too.
“You know me better than that,” Todd says. “I don’t take sides.” He sags onto a stool. “Dude, don’t even think about it. It’s not a good time.”
Allie moves closer to Todd, partially obstructing my view of him. He watches her as she apparently mouths something, then nods his head yes. I push away from the counter and step behind her. “Is he talking with Trevor?” I ask.
Her eyes are imploring. “I have an appointment soon. Can I walk you out?”
Even knowing Trevor’s on the phone, hell if I can say no to those eyes. “Ah, sure.”
Outside, we stand on the sidewalk in front of my car.
I turn to her and force myself to say calmly, “Tell me he’s not coming here. Tell me you got a restraining order on him already.”
She crosses her arms. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do.”
“You’re not going to get a restraining order?” I ask in an incredulous tone.
She glances at the ground.
My stomach does this strange little drop thing I’ve never felt before. “What the hell, Allie? He basically attacked you on Saturday.”
“Listen, Justin, things are complicated. He’s my son’s father. I own a shop with him. Todd and Shay, even Mandy and Mac, they all rely on me. I have rent and bills to pay. I can’t make a decision based on what’s good just for me.”
The image of Trevor shoving her flashes through my head. “Good for you? He’s dangerous.”
Her chest rises and her arms tighten. “He’s just a jerk, but no matter what, he’ll always be part of my life. I can’t get around it.”
My head spins with incomprehension. I’m not sure what to make of this. On our nature walk, Holly had set my mind at ease about Trevor. I’d believed what she’d said—that Allie wouldn’t allow me to meet Ben if she still had feelings for Trevor. But if that’s true, then what Allie is saying makes no sense.
“What is going on between you two?” I ask, my jaw tight.
She rears back, blinking in confusion. “Nothing. He just…can make things difficult.”
I’m trying to wrap my head around what she’s saying. “So you let him control you?”
She shakes her head and lets out a sigh. “Of course you don’t get it. You have no responsibilities. You go to school and play in a band, while your parents…”
“Throw money at me,” I finish for her.
Biting her lip, she stares across the street and wraps her arms around herself. “I need some time, Justin.”
The entire world fades away as I stare at her while those words slowly seep into me.
Her pewter gaze lifts to mine. “I need to think some things through.”
“What are you saying?” I ask, refusing to believe what it sounds like she’s saying.
“Things are hard right now. I need some space.”
“From me?” I ask hoarsely.
Digging the tip of her boot into the cement, she nods.
“Allie, don’t push me away.” I reach for her, but she steps back. My newly awoken heart cracks like the damaged concrete on the sidewalk below us.
“Just give me some time.”
“So I’m supposed to wait?” She doesn’t answer, just stares at the sidewalk. Anger jolts through me. “What the fuck am I waiting for?”
“I need to straighten some things out.”
“Will you quit talking in riddles? Is this because of what I told you yesterday?” I finally ask.
Her expression is conflicted. “Partly.”
I step closer to her. Close enough our bodies almost touch. “I can’t take those words back because they’re true. But they were given freely, without any expectations.”
“I get that,” she says with a nod. “But those words are still weighing on me. Everything is weighing on me right now.”
“Does ‘everything’ have to do with Trevor?”
“I don’t want to discuss him much less think about him right now.” She reaches for then squeezes my hands. “Give me a few days, okay? I need some space to get my head on straight.”
She pulls away but pauses after taking in my desolate expression. “This isn’t the end or anything, Justin. It’s just a break.”
“A fucking break,” I murmur, trying to control my anger as it spikes again.
Her mouth tightens. “Please don’t make me feel guilty about this. I have enough on my mind right now.”
Though it’s harder than hell, I force down my anger, and hurt, and keep my face neutral. “A few days?”
She nods and tugs open the glass door. “I’ll call you soon, okay?”
I nod but as she steps into the shop, this break feels like it’ll be more than a few days. It feels like the beginning of the end.
Chapter 30
Allie
Even though I work only until eight, I haven’t taken a Friday night off in ages. But on this occasion, it’s Ben’s spring play at school, which is not something I’m willing to miss. Along with my parents, Holly and I have front-row seats. My father readies the video recorder while we wait for the kids to come onstage. I’m a little worried Ben might not show since he’s not too keen about performing onstage. Acting is one thing I can say is not in my son’s future. Which is why I was reduced to parental bribery in the form of ice cream. He does come on though—and afterward I applaud until my hands hurt.
It’s just a short drive from his school to the local diner near our apartment, where Ben insists on ordering a massive banana split.
While kneeling on the booth’s bench seat and diving into the ice cream, Ben says, “I thought Dad was going to come.”
“He must have gotten tied up with business stuff,” I say carefully, not wanting to give away how much I hate Trevor right now. “Grandpa got it on video. You two can watch it together and laugh.”
Ben smiles. “I said my lines funny, huh?”
I wrap an arm around his shoulders. “You said your lines perfect.”
“Dude,” Holly says from across the table, “your performance was Oscar-worthy.”
“Who’s Oscar?” he asks.
“Not a who but a what,” Holly says, snagging the cherry from the top of the mound of ice cream while Ben frowns at her. “Every year a bunch of people get together and give out trophies called Oscars to the best actors.”
Ben pushes his lips together. “So where’s mine?”
Holly throws the cherry stem at him. “You have to wait for Oscar night.”
He throws the stem back and it lands in her hair. “When’s that?”
“Next winter,” she says, digging through her blonde locks for the stem.
He gives her a long glare, then digs into chocolate ice cream. “The banana split is better.”
“Way better,” I agree, skimming off some fudge sauce.
Even with three of us, we don’t make a dent in the massive mountain of ice cream in front of us. Holly, refusing to take no for an answer, pays.
We get home late. Well, late for Ben—it’s almost ten when he gets into the tub. I keep an eye on him through the open bathroom door while I pick up his room. Holly, with an overnight bag on her shoulder, pauses in the doorway.
“Just look at tonight. Trevor would never win. Stop worrying about it.”
She’s referring to Trevor’s continued threats about custody and the tight expression I’ve worn all week. The expression I’m wearing at the moment.
“You’re right. He probably wouldn’t.” I stuff a dinosaur book onto a shelf. “But he’d probably get joint custody. Courts are bi
g on joint custody. The thought terrifies me because he’s just doing it just to get back at me. It would be different if he actually wanted to be a father.”
“Come on, Al.” She steps into the room to help pick up and bends to snatch a little coat off the floor. “You know he’s just yanking your chain. He doesn’t want to take care of Ben, even part-time.”
“Think about it, Holly,” I say sarcastically. “How can I not be bothered? It’s every divorced mother’s with a craptastic ex’s nightmare.”
“Okay, okay I get it,” she says, dropping the coat on a hook next to the dresser. “He’s freaking you out. But you have to get over it. Don’t let him rile you up like this.”
I toss socks into a hamper. “I’m trying but it’s easier said than done.”
Her gaze grows skeptical. “What’s going on with Justin?”
Shrugging, I chuck a Hot Wheel into a bin on the floor.
“Don’t tell me you broke it off with him.”
“I’m taking a break, thinking things over.”
“Oh hell, Allie. He’s got it bad for you, and I’m pretty sure you’ve got it bad for him. And I’m not just talking about in between the sheets.”
“I can’t deal with a relationship right now.”
She shoves some toys under the bed with the toe of her shoe. “Oh, and when’s a good time?”
I drop the Hot Wheel bin on another shelf with a thud. “Trevor has showed up every day at the shop. He’s not only talking custody, he’s talking about buying me out or taking me over or whatever. Every day his plans get more demented. Mac just about punched him in the face because he thinks he’s the boss now. Shay is scared she’s going to lose her job and be forced to move back in with her mom. Todd is threatening to quit if Trevor comes back. My mom has been giving me the third degree all week about the half-naked man she’s never met being in my apartment on Sunday. Ben was crying before he got in the tub because his dick of a father didn’t show up for the play and—and…,” I stutter, falling onto Ben’s bed with a plop. “Justin told me he’s falling in love with me.”
